A Question Of Luck
by Emm
Summary: This story's a little out of season, like those Christmas specials on tv which are shown in July. But I was just watching a show set in New Year when I got hit by... "inspiration"!


  
**by Emm@**  
  
Authors Note: Dun dun duuuuuuuuun! Another story by MOI! It has gymshippy romance, and it's just a sweet - well, hopefully sweet - story about new year, as told from Misty's POV. Yes, I KNOW it's only September. But this is MY fanfic, and by God, I say it's January! I know in a lot of countries you can only (legally) drink when you're 21, but I'm going on the legal drinking age over here, which is 18. So it's all good and legal. Well, at least this time anyway, seeing as we all know nobody listens to it anyway. Hell, I've been getting away with it for yeeeeears!   
  
Pinky told me to write this. He's a baaaaaaad monkey.  
  
  
~~~  
  
  
Brock - 20  
Misty - 18  
Ash - 16   
Others - uh... guess.  
  
"I AM ASH, SON OF SATAN!" the deep voice growled, as the yellow-rimmed, gruesomely bulging red eyes stared hollowly at me. And very nearly killed me of fright.  
  
"Ash, get that thing off" I frowned, tugging the grotesque voodoo mask off of Ash's face. It felt rubbery and disturbing life-like between my fingers as I replaced it back on the hook he had gotten it from. Ash rolled his eyes at my disapproval, slicking back his ruffled black hair.   
  
"Geez Misty, it's just a mask. You're such a wuss" he tutted. I glared at him. I may not mind being called a lot of things, but no-one calls me a wuss and lives to tell the tale.   
  
"I'm not scared of that *thing*. I just don't want us to get kicked out of the shop, that's all" I argued, glancing discreetly at the man behind the counter, who now frowned disapproving at Ash. That boy was going to get us *all* kicked out onto our tails.  
  
"He won't kick us out, we're only looking" he argued. "But isn't this thing just great?" he grinned, nodding towards the voodoo mask.  
  
"It's... freaky" I replied, turning my head upwards to gaze at it. The skin of the mask was a dull olive green, pitted with small red spots and deep grooves around the huge, veined, swollen eyes. The mouth was turned up in a sadistic grin from which a forked snake-like tongue lolled out, and a pair of yellow fanged teeth petruded from the clown-like lips. I was just about to make my standard insulting comment on it's likeness to Ash, when I was suddenly distracted by him shouting across the aisle for me to look at some other new-age accessory. I sighed defeatedly, and quickly scarpered in the direction of Brock so as to escape getting into another argument about the desirability of shrunken heads, or voodoo dolls, or whatever weird thing he was looking at.  
  
As I approached, Brock had his face pressed against the glass counter, his eyes gazing at row after row of small wicker baskets, each holding brightly coloured stones. "Confidence?" he read from the small white label on a basket of bright red stones. We both looked up at the hippy-style woman behind the counter, each taking in her baggy trousers, flipflops, rainbow coloured waistcoat and the various strings of beads around her neck. "Let me guess.... it makes you more confident?" he asked, smirking.  
  
"Indeed it does" the woman smiled, oblivious to the scepticism in his voice. "Each gem or stone is believed to help you become a better person. The red stones make you more confident, the purple stones boost your intellect, the blue stones calm you..."  
  
Brock raised an eyebrow, not trying to disguise his disbelief. "Well, don't hate me if I'm a little sceptic" he grinned, gazing at all the baskets. "Hey... what's this one?" he asked, pointing at a basket of pale pink stones.   
  
"They pink ones signify love" she smiled. "They are said to help you find love or make you more attractive to the opposite sex"  
  
"Ha... yeah right!" Brock laughed, rolling his eyes. "As if that's gonna happen!"  
  
He gradually stopped laughing, and quickly turned around to see if anybody else was nearby. Seeing only me, he leant down and whispered discreetly to the woman.  
  
"I'll take ten"  
  
  
~~~   
  
  
"New age stores rock!" Ash grinned, gazing in fascination at his newly-purchased lucky rabbits foot. I looked at the keychain in disgust, and screwed up my face.  
  
"Ew. How could buy that thing?" I asked, glancing at Ash oddly.  
  
"What do you mean? It's supposed to bring me good luck. Isn't it great?" he smiled, thrusting it right under my nose. I pushed it away, pulling a face.  
  
"Great? How could it be great? Some poor rabbits foot that's been hacked off, then screwed onto a piece of metal and sold as a tacky, over-priced novelty souvenir. That's not great, Ash, it's barberic!" I retorted, visions of a fluffy rabbit with raw bloodied stumps for paws filling my head.  
  
"Well, not really, Misty" Brock interjected. "The rabbit would be dead at the time"  
  
God, why does he have to know everything?  
  
"So?" I frowned. "That's like taking a dead persons hand, cutting it off, and selling it in a shop as a lucky charm. Don't you think *that's* barberic?"  
  
"Good point. But then, it does seem kind of stupid to think a rabbits foot would be lucky" Brock shrugged. At least he agreed with me.  
  
"Huh! That's rich coming from the guy who has a dozen stones in his pocket, just because he thinks it'll find him a girlfriend" Ash snorted. Brock looked down at the pale pink stone in his palm, then closed his fist around it defensively.   
  
"Hey, they *might* work" he replied, sounding a little hurt. "And besides, I'll try anything. What have I got to lose?"  
  
"Your pride?" Ash queried.  
  
"Your dignity?" I added, grinning.  
  
"Fine. You just keep laughing it up, but I'll tell you something. I'll be the one who's laughing when I'm having to fend off supermodels with a pointy stick" Brock declared, smugly. I just shook my head in reply as Ash and I exchanged a glance. He's older, he's smarter, but by God, he ain't wiser!  
  
"Hey guys, you two are joining the Pallet New Year party, aren't you?" Ash asked eagerly, completely changing the subject.   
  
"Sure a pair of out-of-towners like us are invited?" I asked sarcastically, my voice sounding more bitter than I had intended. Ash looked at me in frustration.  
  
"Of course you are. Geez, what's got *your* panties in a twist?" he glowered.  
  
"Oh, go screw yourself" I growled back, sending him my mother-of-all-evil look.  
  
"What's up, Misty? PMS?" he smirked, obviously very pleased at his insult. He must have spent the whole year coming up with that one.  
  
"Bite me" I glared viciously, making a lunge for him. Unfortunately for me - but very fortunate for him - good ol' Brock stepped in and pinned my arms behind me.   
  
"Now now, you two...." he said soothingly, grabbing my arms and pinning them back behind me before they could make a beeline for Ash's neck. "I would have thought we'd have outgrown this by now"  
  
"Let me go, Brock!" I growled aggressively, trying to scare him into submission.  
  
"We don't want to get arrested, do we? You... eighteen. Him... sixteen. Wouldn't stand up very good in court when you're being charged for GBH" Brock gently reminded me.  
  
"Forget GBH! It'll be first-degree murder after I get my hands on him!"  
  
Brock didn't reply, just gave me his tried and tested 'you-know-I'm-right-don't-you' look. I sighed in defeat, and he let go of my arms. What did I tell you? I HATE it when he's always right. It makes me look so dumb and immature. But just to get my point across, I pretended to lunge at Ash again as I passed. I enjoyed watching him flinch and scamper back at least two feet.  
  
"So... are you going to the New Years Party?" Ash asked again, taking careful consideration to glare at me as he said it. If Brock hadn't been walking in the middle, he'd be being scraped off the pavement by now.  
  
"Yeah, it sounds good" Brock nodded. "Why not?"  
  
"Great. I'll tell Mom you're coming to the New Year party too" Ash grinned.  
  
"I love New Year" Brock smiled dreamily. "All that mistletoe..."  
  
"That's Christmas, not New Year" Ash laughed.  
  
"Oh... yeah. I love Christmas"  
  
Ash began laughing hysterically suddenly for no apparent reason, as if remembering something particularly funny. "Oh my God, you wouldn't *believe* what happened last year on New Years Eve. Anyway, like I said, it was New Years Eve, and--"  
  
"For fucks sake, will you just stop talking about bloody NEW YEAR?!?!?" I screamed, cutting off Ash mid-sentence. "I am sick and bloody tired of listening to you talk about New Year! So it's New Year! So fucking what??? It's only a day, just like yesterday! Or tomorrow! Or three weeks Tuesday! What are you so friggin' excited about?"  
  
The guys stared at me with their mouths hanging open. So they think I'm crazy. So what?  
  
"So.... you won't be coming then?" Ash asked, gingerly. I let out an frustrated growl and stomped away, leaving them to think whatever they want. As I stormed away, I heard Ash mutter "It *must* be PMS"  
  
The little shite. If they only knew. If they only freakin' knew!  
  
  
~~~  
  
  
"Hey! Are you listening to me?"  
  
I immediately snapped out of my thoughts, starting suddenly at the raised voice and realising someone had been speaking to me for quite a while. I looked across the Ketchum living room to see Brock looking at me oddly, the fork held in his hand hovering in mid-air, half-way between his plate and his mouth.  
  
"Um... yes?" I muttered weakly, shaking my head in an attemptto clear my mind.  
  
"Have you just listened to a single word I said?" he asked, knitting his eyebrows together.  
  
"Yeah! Of... of course I did" I lied, trying to look as genuine as possible.  
  
"What did I say then?"  
  
"I..." I looked desperately towards Ash for help, but realised for the first time that he wasn't there. "Uh..."  
  
"I rest my case" Brock smirked, obviously finding my rather dazed state amusing. "What I said was, why haven't you haven't touched your food?"  
  
He nodded downwards, and I cast my eyes down to the untouched plate of picked-at food resting in my lap.   
  
"I'm not hungry"  
  
"What's up? You gone off my cooking?" he joked, nudging me gently in the ribs with his elbow. I shook my head in reply, stabbing my food with my fork viciously. Brock's grin faded, and he rested the fork he had been holding onto his plate, and put the meal on the floor beside him. "What's wrong with you tonight?" he repeated. "You've said barely two words, you've been really miserable since you woke up, and you totally freaked out earlier. Got up on the wrong side of the bed?"  
  
"Nothing's wrong with me, ok?" I snapped, pushing my food away. If he had any common sense, he'd have just backed off and ignored me for the rest of the night. That's what I wanted him to do. But I should have known better. I know what he's like when he thinks something's wrong, that paternal instict in him starts to kick in. Hell hath no fury like Brock when he gets into 'Dad' mode.   
  
Brock. My best friend, father, mother, big brother, cook, agony aunt, travelling companion, shoulder-to-cry-on, carer, minder and fellow gym leader - all rolled into one.   
  
Before I realised, he had walked over to me in three long strides and was now crouched eye-level with me, the back of his hand searching my forehead for any kind of fever.   
  
"Are you ok?" he asked quickly. "You don't *seem* to have a fever. Are you ill? Do you feel hot? Do want to see a doctor?"   
  
Despite my bad mood, I couldn't resist the urge to laugh at him as he fussed over me. I batted his hands away, chuckling. "I'm ok, Brock, I'm ok" I grinned, pushing his hands down to his sides. He arched an eyebrow suspiciously.  
  
"Are you sure?" he asked, doubtfully. "I don't know, maybe you are a little unwell--"  
  
I tried to shoo him away again as his hands came back up to feel my forehead again. "I *said* I'm ok, Brock" I tried to explain, pushing him away. He sighed and sat on the carpeted floor in front of me, cross-legged.   
  
"Seriously though. What's up? Why did you lose it back there?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.  
  
"You'll think I'm stupid" I frowned, turning my head away from him.  
  
"Who says I will? You don't know what I'll think until you ask me"  
  
I contemplated this momentarily. "Well..." I said reluctantly, "It's just that New Years Eve happens to be my unlucky day, that's all. It just gets me a little down. I get to be a bit of a bitch"  
  
"It's... your unlucky day?" Brock repeated, confusedly. He probably thought I was totally nuts.   
  
"Yeah. You know how people get bad luck on Friday the thirteenth?" I asked. "Well, anything bad happens to me, it's always on a New Years Eve. My parents got killed on 31st December when I was a little kid. I broke my leg on 31st December the next year. Exactly a year after that, something else happened. Something bad always on New Years Eve to me. Either someone dies, or I break a leg, or me or someone else gets hurt..." I explained, feeling stupid for burdening Brock with my silly little problems. I laughed to myself, embarrassed at having to explain my deepest, most closely guarded secret to a sceptic audience. "Guess I'm just a superstious kook"   
  
"Nah" Brock grinned, much to my relief. "My unlucky day is Friday the thirteenth. I can always count on something going wrong on *that* day"  
  
I grinned back. "I guess I'm just happy you don't think I'm some sort of freak for believing it"  
  
Brock smiled, then lifted himself to his feet. "I'd better go make Ash his dinner. He'll be back anytime soon"  
  
"Ker-chhh" I grinned, imitating the sound of a whip. "Oh, you'd make such a darling little house husband, Brock"  
  
Brock laughed, and I turned to look into the distance distractedly as he started to walk off in the direction of the kitchen.  
  
"Oh... Misty?"  
  
"Yeah?" I smiled, turning my head to look at him. He walked back the few steps towards me, and crouched back down on his heels. Raising his right hand, he pulled off a plain silver ring, one which I had strangely never noticed before, from his fourth finger. He pressed it into my palm, and smiled warmly.   
  
"Here. I think you should wear this tonight... to the party"  
  
"What is it?" I asked, curiously looking down at the silver band.  
  
"It was my Mom's" he explained. "She always said it will bring you luck if you wear it. You need it more tonight than I do"  
  
"Brock... I can't wear this, it's yours" I protested, touched at the gesture.  
  
"No, I want you to wear it tonight" he grinned, curling my fingers around it. "Who knows... maybe this New Years Eve won't be so unlucky after all"  
  
  
~~~  
  
  
So that is why I am standing at the side of the dancing floor, with my third redbull and vodka in my hand, feeling bored, depressed, and lonely. I never should have come. New Years Eve is my unlucky night, it probably would have been best for me to stay at home and watch the eight-hour monster movie marathon on cable. It would have been better than being here, leaning against the wall and getting drunk off my ass like some alcoholic, pathetic, friendless loser. Hey, is that Ash drinking beer? He's not old enough, the little delinquint.  
  
I 'm sure I have a permanent scowl on my face. No wonder anyone's talking to me, I must be radiating signals that say "Don't come near me. Grrrrr..."  
  
Why am I even thinking these crazy thoughts? The alcohol must be kicking in. I'm such a lightweight, I get drunk after just three drinks. Brock can down eight beers in one go and still name all five members of the Spice Girls. I'm staggering all over the place after just *sniffing* a drink. Wait a minute... there are only FOUR members of the Spice Girls! See what I mean?  
  
I look down at the silver ring shining up at me from my index finger under the neon disco lights, and narrow my eyes accusingly at it. "Some lucky ring *you* are" I hissed at it, before giving myself a mental kick in the ass and realising it is kind of crazy to talk to inanimate objects. No wonder no-one's speaking to me, I'm a scary loner who's talking to her ring.  
  
Brock's ring! Brock's ring, not mine.  
  
Speaking of him, where *is* he? I saw him before we went in, when he had winked at me and wished me good luck for the night, but that was hours ago. On any other day, I'd have jumped at a chance of going to a party like this. But today... today is New Years Eve. And I just got that feeling that something's going to happen. When I get that feeling, it makes me depressed. When I get depressed, I drink more. When I drink more, I get even more depressed. So I buy more drink. And so on. It's a vicious cycle.  
  
"Ok people, coming up in five minutes... the COUNTDOWN!" the DJ yelled, his voice blaring out of the speakers.   
  
I groaned as the neon lights started flickering again and the first beats of the final song came from the speakers, encouraging the people on the floor to dance with re-newed energy. I absolutely hate this tradition, it's so stupid. The lights go out at zero, and you grab the nearest person and have to kiss them. I mean REALLY kiss them, not just a peck on the cheek. I wouldn't mind that, but I think that it's just a oppurtunity for the guy next to you to cop a feel, then disappear before the lights go back on so you don't know who the son of a bitch is.   
  
I looked at the ring again. I genuinely was touched that he would trust me with something so valuable to him, but it was doing absolutely nothing to improve my luck. I was still standing here, bored out of my skull and wanting to go home. Or then again, maybe it was working. I hadn't gotten hurt today. No-one had died. I still had two working legs. Maybe the luck only worked for Brock.  
  
I glanced up as more people joined the fray in the center of the danceroom. The small square which served as a dance floor was now heaving with dancers, a tangle of flailing arms and legs. "That's it" I muttered moodily to myself. "I'm going home"  
  
I pushed myself off the wall with my spiked heel, standing straight. Well, at least I tried to stand straight, but my balance was slightly impaired following the drowning of my sorrows. What pissed me off even more was that I had thrown aside my tomboyish attributes for the night and made an effort to look at least a *little* more feminime. Back in Cerulean, I never would have even contemplated walking home by myself, at midnight, wearing such a short skirt. But the quiet streets of Pallet Town were so different to the big-city way of life I am accustomed to.  
  
I was just about to leave, when someone gripped me tightly around the wrist. I turned around, ready to bite off the head of he who dared to touch me. Instead, I came face to face with Ash, his cheeks flushed from dancing and his hair a mess. Well... more of a mess than usual.  
  
"What are you doing over here all by yourself?" he asked, a touch of concern in his voice despite his obvious estatic state. I opened my mouth to declare I was leaving, but he beat me to it. "You're not leaving are you? Come on, stop being so sorry for yourself"  
  
Before I could argue, he was dragging me off into the center of the packed dancefloor despite me trying to dig my spiked heels into the lino floor, ignoring my feeble protests. As many bad things as I say about Ash, he's a great friend to have. I don't know how he can completely forget about our earlier argument, then actually bother to try and cheer me up. If it were the other way around, I'd be giving him the cold shoulder for days.   
  
We squeezed through the masses of swaying bodies, everyone too wrapped up with their dancing to even notice us. Eventually we reached an impossibly small space and Ash stopped, launching into a wild improvised dance and flailing his arms and legs around. It was impossible for me to keep in my foul mood, and soon I even found myself dancing along with him.  
  
I was suddenly aware of the music gradually dying out, and the lights coming on. The DJ, a young man in his twenties with a goatee and baseball cap, was grinning broadly as he spoke into the microphone. "Okay, here comes the countdown" he shouted excitedly, his voice echoing across the room. I looked around for Ash, but he had disappeared again. That boy is trickier to find than a strand of hay in a bag of needles.  
  
"Ten!" the DJ began, encouraging his audience to join in.  
  
"Nine"  
  
"Eight"  
  
"Seven"  
  
"Six"  
  
"Five"  
  
"Four"  
  
"Three"  
  
"Two"  
  
"One"  
  
"Zero!"  
  
A big cheer rose throughout the room as the new year dawned, and the lights gently flickered out. I stood in total blackness, my previous feeling of depression returning. I wanted to leave, but knew I couldn't get out now. Damn Ash for dragging me out here to dance. I was going to look like a total fool when the lights come back on and I'm standing alone while everyone around me is in somebody elses arm. Everyone's got someone except for me.  
  
I closed my eyes tightly, willing for the lights to come back on and for it all to be over. I hate this! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! I was wishing it would all just go away, when I felt two arms snake around my waist, pulling me into someone. I opened my eyes to see who it was, but all I could see was pitch black all around. I was about to question the person, when they - whoever it was - pushed their lips against mine. I was shocked for a second at the suddeness of it, before I just decided to go with the flow and return the kiss, resting my hands on their upper arms. At least I could tell it was a guy. I may have been kissing a total stranger, but at least it wasn't a *female* total stranger. Besides, it was past midnight. I might as well enjoy myself, at least a little, before we left.   
  
The lights flickered back on again and my partner reluctantly pulled away from me. Still smiling, I slowly opened my eyes, then let out a small gasp as I saw the person grinning back at me.  
  
"Brock?" I whispered, my eyes widening slightly.  
  
"Hey there" he grinned, not making any attempt to break apart. "Fancy seeing you here"  
  
"Wow... I had no idea you were such a good... " I trailed off, a blush growing across my face.  
  
Brock just smiled at me. "Kisser?" he grinned, winking at me. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me"  
  
"Obviously" I answered.  
  
His smile grew at my expression. "Guess this New Years Eve isn't so unlucky, huh?"  
  
"Guess so" I smiled back. "You know what, Brock?"  
  
"What?"  
  
I looked down at the fourth finger of my right hand, which rested on his arm, then back up at Brock.  
  
"I think you're mother's ring really is lucky"  
  
  
~~~  
  
  
Authors Note: Has anyone ever actually tried Redbull and vodka? Yummy! I hate this fic for being too mushy. Emma, hang thy head in shame! Everyone else does such great romancey-type fics, but whenever I write one it's all sappy and mushy and makes you want to gag. Ick! I hate mush!   
  
I don't know about anywhere else, but it actually IS a New Year tradition in my town to switch the lights out when you reach zero in the countdown, then grab the nearest person and kiss them. The scary thing is, you can end up kissing *anyone*. If you're lucky, it'll be your boyfriend, or the person you've had a crush on since you were five. If you're not, you could end up getting off with the postman, the school geek who fancies you, or even your best friend of the same gender. It happens! The worst bit is when the lights come back on and you get a look at your partner... ((shudder)). It brings back some disturbing and very scary memories to me. 


End file.
